


To the Rescue

by Pegasus_Eridana



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/pseuds/Pegasus_Eridana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crixus, king vampire of the Gaulish covens, is on a mission to save his wife Naevia from the clutches of Lucretia and Batiatus. He takes some supernatural friends along to help him.<br/>AU vampire-supernatural shindig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nagron](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nagron).



> This is for nagron, who wanted a vampire fic - j'espere que vous l'aimez! Chapter updates will probably be a bit irregular but I do have plenty of ideas for this fic so hopefully it won't be too long inbetween chapters.  
> I think it is all fairly easy to follow in terms of who-is-what-kind-of-supernatural-being, but feel free to check if anything is unclear.  
> This is set in the late 18th century. Mainly because the thought of Crixus et al in breeches made me really happy. I regret nothing.

The three figures raced across the snowy mountaintop. In the front, Nasir, the Tracker. He had a strong wiry frame which was belied by his slight, almost petite build and elegant features. Behind him, Crixus the Undefeated. Many had challenged him for supremacy over the Gaulish covens, yet none had succeeded. Along with Gannicus of the Celtic covens, Oenemaus of the African covens and Spartacus of the old Greek covens, to name the fiercest and most powerful, he was one of the Vampire Kings. He was huge, with broad muscular shoulders and bulging arms. His mouth was set in a grim and determined line. Pain seemed to be etched into his features. Bringing up the rear was Agron. He was so huge that he towered above even Crixus. Agron was a Shifter who could morph into a bear at will. He was an equally formidable warrior in either form. The three of them had been on the move for days, tracking Crixus’ wife Naevia, who had been kidnapped. Nasir was helping because Naevia was his best friend, and his lover Agron came because he was Crixus’ (though neither would admit it). Also, Agron’s strength had proved invaluable as Naevia had continued to be missing and Crixus had started to lose control. Several times Agron had been forced to physically drag Crixus away from fights with other supernaturals. And putting a freaking-out husband who was also one of the strongest and most dangerous vampires in the world in a headlock was pretty damn hard. 

The group descended from the mountains to a small and remote village, the tavern of which was the designated rendezvous spot. Entering, Crixus immediately spotted Spartacus and Gannicus in the corner, and made his way over to join them, Nasir and Agron following at a respectful distance. Although they themselves owed no allegiance to the Vampire Kings, they still showed respect to the position. Crixus clasped arms with his fellow monarchs, then they sat down. 

“What news, brothers?” Crixus asked. “Where is Oenemaus?”

“He has been detained,” replied Gannicus. “Ashur has been causing trouble again and Oenemaus has been called to deal with it.”

“And what of Naevia? Has anything been heard? We have been following faint tracks but they have almost disappeared and Naevia has been too long from my arms. I cannot endure much more of this, thinking…wondering what tortures she is being made to suffer-“

“I know, brother,” interposed Spartacus. And he was the one who did indeed know. His own Seer wife, Sura, had been taken from him centuries before and he had searched for her for years before being briefly reunited after she had been mortally wounded. She had been taken to Faerie to be a Seer for them, and although it saved her life, there was no return for her. She and Spartacus were only allowed to see each other once a year. “We think we know who took her.” He let this sink in for a moment. Then Crixus leapt up, his face suffused with anger. 

“Then why do we waste fucking time here? Lead me to the bastards who took out my heart so that I may reclaim it and rip out theirs in return!”

“It may not be that easy,” said Spartacus. “You see, we think she has been taken by Lucretia.”

Crixus swore. Nasir looked confused. 

“Lucretia?...the name is not familiar…” Spartacus turned to him. 

“It was centuries ago, before you and Agron found each other. Lucretia is the leader of the Roman Weres, not just wolves but all sorts of beasts. She wished to make an alliance with Crixus, an arranged marriage which would join their clan and coven and give them almost unheard of power. Crixus was initially not entirely opposed to the match, given the great stability and power it would bring to his people.

“But then he met Naevia. They fell in love, and Crixus knew he could never consider a match with Lucretia. So, keeping his new love a secret, he broke things off with Lucretia. She was offended, but it was only when word of Crixus’ marriage to Naevia reached her that she truly became crazed with jealousy.

“She vowed revenge on them both. Crixus still bears the scars from attempts on his life made by Lucretia’s cronies. But in these last few decades we have not heard anything from her. We thought she had grown tired of her pursuit for vengeance. It appears we were wrong.”

“She has married now,” added Gannicus, “to another Were by the name of Batiatus. He is mainly known for making a fortune from capturing supernaturals and forcing them to fight each other to the death in front of an audience.”

Agron’s fists clenched, and Nasir laid his hand above them, trying to comfort. Agron and his brother Duro had been captured and forced to fight in this way. Agron had made it out alive. Duro had not. Agron squeezed Nasir’s fingers and breathed in his musky scent, a smell which never failed to calm him. Opening his eyes, he registered the three vampires discussing what to do next. Crixus wanted to storm Lucretia’s hideout, rescue Naevia and kill all who got in the way. Spartacus was advising caution and a better-formed plan of attack. Gannicus just wanted a good fight. Nasir and Agron agreed with Spartacus – pointless to waste so many lives in a head-on assault, so it was finally decided that a small group of them: the three vampires, Nasir, Agron, Gannicus’ woman Sibyl who was a Mage, and Agron’s cousin Saxa, who was terrifying, would infiltrate Lucretia and Batiatus’ mansion, to locate and save Naevia. It was also decided that they would ask Lucius, king of the Roman vampire covens, to provide them with a guide who could show them the way through the Weres’ territory. 

The group got ready to leave. The would meet Sibyl and Saxa further along the journey. Crixus put on his greatcoat and swung himself up onto his great black stallion. The fact that not all in their group were vampires meant that they had to ride and not run. He urged the horse to a gallop and rode through the night, every stride taking him closer to his Naevia. His heart.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang arrive at Lucius', where Spartacus gets some unexpected news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely comments have inspired me to write this chapter and post it much more quickly than I thought I would. There's a certain amount of smushy reflection but hopefully you'll enjoy it.   
> I have major love for the Crixron bromance, and I have tried to put some of it into this chapter.

_“It is no mean thing, to strike a man’s head from his shoulders in one blow.”_

_“Nevertheless, I do not favour the fighting in which you participate.”_

_“An odd bent for a Mage of the Wild.”_

_“One not to be straightened.”_

_“I meant no offence. Merely that you should know better than most the struggle for survival. Only the strongest survive.”_

_“But your people would be better served if you made peace with Spartacus.”_

_“He does not respect our ways and customs! He is a man without honour!”_

_“He is a man trying to find his place in the world. A world he was not a part of until very recently. You are one of the greatest of the Vampire Kings; you could show him the way.”_

_“You are wise as well as bold, my lady. What is your name?”_

_“I am Naevia.”_

 

Crixus often thought of that first exchange between himself and Naevia, centuries ago. He had been walking in the woods, practising several sword techniques. Although technically he did not need a weapon, he appreciated the long smooth lines and the artistry of swordplay. He had been swinging and hacking when she had appeared at the side of the clearing, dappled sunlight in her dark and shining hair. He had immediately been struck by her beauty, but it was only when they talked and she reprimanded him for boasting and advised him to make peace, showing unusual courage and wisdom to address a King thusly, that he realised he wished to spend the rest of eternity with this woman. She was so strong and yet so calm and wise. He thought he had never before seen such strength of heart. The truth of this had only been proven over their years together. A love that never waned, a desire which burned ever brighter, and a partnership that was the envy of all. Crixus knew that he could not lose Naevia. He could never go back to the person he had been before she had come into his life, shining like the sun. Without Naevia, Crixus’ whole existence meant nothing.

Agron watched Crixus’ profile as they galloped towards their goal, shrouded by night. Even in the darkness, Agron could see the lines of sadness and worry travelling over Crixus’ face. Sometimes he would give a faint, sad smile, and Agron knew he was thinking about his love. The man Agron used to be would have strongly objected to this mission. Wasting lives that could not be spared just to rescue one woman who would probably be scarred forever by her ordeal was a foolish errand. However, meeting Nasir changed that. Changed him. Now Agron knew how vital it was that Crixus and Naevia were reunited, for both their sakes. He knew that he himself would tear apart heaven and earth and everywhere in between if Nasir was ever taken from him. He looked ahead to where Nasir was riding alongside Sibyl. They seemed to be having a good conversation, and Agron smiled. The he glanced at Crixus, and his smile dropped. A single tear was tracking its way down Crixus’ cheek. For a vampire to shed tears, they had to be in the worst pain imaginable. Agron had not realised how tight a control Crixus had kept on himself during the days. He considered stopping to try and offer Crixus some words of comfort, but after a moment of reflection he decided that the best thing he could do for Crixus was to find Naevia as soon as possible. And that meant they kept galloping, side by side and silent.

The sun beat down mercilessly as the group drew up by Lucius’ mansion. It was a large, imposing building, although from the outside it looked more like a ruined temple. Such facades were necessary to keep the humans, although there were of course other powerful magical protections surrounding the place too. They clattered into the seemingly abandoned courtyard and dismounted. It was only as they were ascending the shallow set of steps up to the entrance that they were accosted. As if out of nowhere, archers sprang up, stakes, silver-tips and normal arrows nocked to their bows. Crixus, Spartacus and Gannicus stepped forward. The archers seemed to recognise their aura, and stepped aside. Through their ranks came an old man, with long blonde-grey hair covering the sides and back of his head and the lower half of his face. His face was craggy and sombre, but his expression lightened when he saw his guests.

“Fuck the gods! My brothers!” Heedless of the protocols usually in place in such a meeting, he embraced the three vampires enthusiastically.

“Allow me to introduce our companions,” said Gannicus. “Agron, leader of the Germanic Shifter tribes, and his cousin Saxa. Nasir, of the Trackers, and Sibyl, an Oracle and my wife.”

Lucius shook all their hands heartily. He kissed both the women on the cheek. Sibyl blushed and Saxa growled, which made Lucius give a shout of laughter and clap her on the back.

“Forgive the hostility of your welcome. I had not expected you for another day, and we are plagued by raiding parties from fuckin’ Glaber.”

At those words, Spartacus tensed. “Glaber? Here?” he growled.

Nasir looked over at Agron, a confused frown on his face. Agron edged over to him and muttered, “Glaber is a powerful Warrior Mage, and the fuck who took Spartacus’ wife Sura from him.” Nasir nodded his understanding, and they turned their attention back to what Lucius was saying.

“Were you not aware? He has been staying with the bitch Lucretia and her shitweasel of a husband. His wife Ithilia is also with him. She is of the Greek clans, as is he, and they say she is a Siren.”

Gannicus swore softly under his breath. Sirens were known for their ability to enchant men into believing they were in love with them. Then as soon as they got close enough, the Siren would rip off their victims’ cocks and tear out their hearts, and consume them. This would not make the task ahead of them any easier. Spartacus was shuddering and growling. Gannicus stepped up and placed a strong, steady hand on his shoulder, as did Crixus. Lucius, realising that the name Glaber held far more weight and meaning to these people than he had anticipated, held his peace, and instead led his guests through the dark archway and into the centre of his domain.


	3. Preparation and Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang devise a plan. Spartacus throws a spanner in the works, and Agron and Nasir have a bit of a tiff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted Nagron smut. Your wish is my command, though once again apologies for the quality! Fear not, fellow Craevia OTP-ers, their time will come!

Lucius led them to a vast candlelit chamber, the flames flickering and casting strange shadows upon the weathered sandstone walls. There was a long table in the centre of the room, and it was to this that Lucius took them. Spartacus had calmed down somewhat, although his face was set and angry, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. They seated themselves around the table, then Crixus spoke. 

“Let us waste as little time as possible over this. Naevia is imprisoned; we must free her. We will get into Lucretia’s den by masquerading as a group of nomad Seers seeking shelter. Sibyl, you will lead us in this. Once the fighting starts, find a safe place to hide.” Sibyl opened her mouth to protest, but Gannicus stopped her with a gentle kiss. 

“My love, I would not be parted from your side, but I cannot fight as I should if I am worrying about protecting you. You are not a warrior.”

“Very well,” replied Sibyl. Crixus continued. 

“Once we are inside and trusted, we shall reveal ourselves and Nasir will take the lead, finding Naevia’s scent and leading us to her. Saxa and Agron will Shift and go in different directions, causing as much havoc as possible so as to distract the Weres from our true purpose. Spartacus, Gannicus and myself will go with Nasir, and kill all who stand in our way. And if we come across the bitch Lucretia,” here he bared his teeth in a snarl, “she is mine. I will kill her for what she has done.”

“A good plan, brother,” said Spartacus. “However, I shall not be going with you and Gannicus to find Naevia.” A shocked silence greeted his words. Eventually Agron managed to get out, “But why?”

“I have unfinished business with Glaber and Ilythia,” Spartacus replied. Seeing the expression on his face, no-one challenged him. He looked over to Lucius. “And if the guide you provide us with could show me the way to the guest quarters, he would have my gratitude.”

Lucius smiled. “Indeed, my guide can show you. Mira!” A woman emerged from the shadows. She had long black hair and dainty features. She carried a bow and had a full quiver of arrows slung over her back. She moved almost silently, and looked as though she could be related to Nasir. This made sense as she was a Guide, with an inherent knowledge of all places, and Nasir was a Tracker, able to follow the trail of anyone, anywhere. There was a certain amount of overlap in their skills and they looked to be from the same tribes. 

“Very well,” said Crixus, “but as soon as I have Naevia back in my arms, I am taking her away from that place of piss and shit. I do not…” he swallowed, paused for a moment, then continued. “I do not know what they have done to her, or whether she will even be able to walk or speak. I will not be able to come and aid you, brother.” Spartacus nodded at him.

“Nor would I expect you to. You have your own task Crixus, and I mine.” Agron looked from one to the other, and made a decision.

“I will go with Spartacus,” he said. Nasir whipped his head round and grabbed Agron’s hand. 

“No! You will not go! It is too dangerous!” Agron covered Nasir’s hand with his own. 

“It is the best way. My task is to provide diversion, and I can do that at least as effectively with Spartacus. Perhaps even more so, as we may draw off a larger part of their resources.”

“If those words were designed to comfort, then you have failed,” Nasir scowled, and held on to Agron more tightly. Crixus looked at the two of them, pain and longing apparent in his eyes for his own love of hold him like that once more. Lucius cleared his throat, and Sibyl stood. 

“We should retire for a few hours,” she said in her soft voice. “We have the best chance of success if we approach the dominion of the Weres at first light. They will be sleepy and sated from their night’s hunting, and less likely to kill before word is exchanged.” The rest of the group nodded their agreement. It was not a problem for the vampires to travel in sunlight. Only young and weak vampires had that problem, as over the years the strongest could build up immunity to the sun’s poison. 

Lucius had his people show the way to bedchambers. These were underground, and seemed to be carved into the very roots of Vesuvius behind them. Each apartment was spacious, with huge four-poster beds, huge woven rugs on the floor, and tapestries hanging from the walls, making the area seem more homely despite the stark rock surroundings. 

Agron and Nasir had one such apartment. Gannicus and Sibyl retired, as did Spartacus and Saxa to their individual quarters. Crixus stood for a time on the walls, gazing at the moon and trying to take comfort from the fact that somewhere, his Naevia was under the same moon. He stood motionless, thinking of his lost love and the reunion he prayed would occur on the morrow. 

***

Agron sat heavily on the edge of the bed and started pulling off his boots. Nasir scowled at him.

“Are we not going to talk about your fucking stupid idea?” Agron looked up innocently. 

“What is there to talk about? It is settled. You would not have me stay from the fight like some helpless damsel, would you?”

“There is a difference between not fighting and committing bloody suicide!” snarled Nasir. “You told me yourself that Glaber is a fucking Warrior Mage. Gods know I understand Spartacus’ wish for revenge, but that is his task, not yours. Have you even given thought to what I would do if you..if…”

Agron leapt up and caught Nasir in his arms, kissing him fiercely. 

“Hades himself would quake and retreat if he tried to rip me from your embrace,” Agron growled, sounding like the bear he was. He almost crushed the breath from Nasir, but the Tracker gave as good as he got, biting down on Agron’s earlobes and lips and neck, marking the bear as his own. 

“You are mine, do you hear me?” he whispered heatedly. “You belong to me, and if you let Glaber hurt one hair on your hide, I will-“ Agron chuckled as he squeezed Nasir’s cock again, eliciting a breathy moan from the both of them. 

“What will you do, little man?” Agron murmured in Nasir’s ear. Nasir gave a feral snarl and pushed Agron back onto the bed, straddling him. Agron gave a groan of pleasure as Nasir ground their crotches together. Clothes were ripped off in a frenzy, the only thought the two men had was of being one with each other, being inside and around, above and below, proving to any of the gods who might be listening that they would never be parted from one another. Nasir rolled Agron over, and started laving the Shifter’s ass with his tongue. Agron growled and squirmed, exquisite jolts of pleasure shooting through him as Nasir’s tongue begin fucking him ruthlessly. When he could take no more, he moaned out, “Nasir, please…now, take me now…show me who I belong to…” Nasir hissed and turned Agron on his face so they were face to face. Nasir pinned Agron’s arms by his sides, and slowly entered him. They both gave long drawn out moans of bliss as Nasir came to rest fully sheathed inside Agron. After pausing for a moment to allow Agron to adjust, Nasir began pounding furiously into Agron, chanting, 

“Mine…mine…you are all mine…” Agron echoed him. 

“Yours…yours…no-one else’s…” They were so wound up, neither lasted long. They came together, shouting and groaning. 

After, Nasir shuffled up Agron’s body to drop a lazy kiss on his lips and curl up in his arms. 

“I meant what I said,” he sleepily muttered. “If you are hurt tomorrow, there is not a place in the cosmos where I will not hunt you down.”

“I know,” replied Agron, pressing his lips against Nasir’s temple. “Do you think I would consent to be from your side for a second if I did not know you would always find me?”

***

Crixus stood on the ramparts, staring out at the silver landscape. So near and yet so far away from Naevia. On the morrow, one way or another, he would get her back. But what exactly was it that would be returned to him?


	4. Destination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang travel in disguise to infiltrate Lucretia's lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously you guys, I'm enjoying this too much.   
> Enjoy the Crixron. I know I do.

_She reared above him, skin glistening golden with sweat. He thought she was transcendently beautiful when she was like this, free, in control, confident that she was loved and desired more than any other woman in existence. The depth of his love for her knew no bounds, and he wanted to show her every moment of every day just how much she was adored. He trailed his hands over her hips, down the valley between her breasts, over her hardened nipples, letting her set the pace of their lovemaking. Her movements became less rhythmic, and she started panting out his name until she finally convulsed, tightening around him and triggering his own orgasm. She collapsed, breathless and boneless, on his chest, careless of the way their sweat-soaked bodies rubbed against each other. She kissed him softly and tenderly._

_“I love you, Crixus.”_

***

Crixus watched the sky lightening on the horizon. He had stood outside all night, meditating and remembering. Now he turned, just in time to see his brothers and comrades emerge from Lucius’ dwelling. Nasir and Agron had sorted out their spat if their swollen lips and satisfied expressions were anything to go by; Gannicus and Sibyl had also obviously had a satisfying night, and still clung closely together, Gannicus’ arm protectively around his woman. Saxa was bristling with even more weapons than usual, something that confused Crixus. She could transform at will into a caracal, and yet she insisted on carrying a mace, a belt full of throwing axes, cross-draw swords and a wickedly sharp scimitar. And that was only the visible arsenal. Spartacus was silent and purposeful, standing slightly apart from the rest. Mira stood before Lucius, receiving his blessing. She was dressed like Saxa, in serviceable, worn leather boots and breeches, with a simple shirt tucked into the trousers. Over their clothes, each member of the group cast a dull and voluminous robe in order to pass as a nomadic Holy Order. The robes were also baggy enough to hide all their weapons, even all Saxa’s blades. Mira was the only one not to don a robe. Her position as a Guide allowed her safe passage through most areas. A non-warrior group without a Guide would draw more suspicion than one with.

Before they left, the vampires had one last consultation.

“May the blessings of gods and kings aid you in your quest,” said Lucius. “I only wish I could do more to help you, but alas, I am no warrior.” Crixus clasped his forearm.

“You have already done much. I will not forget it.”

The group headed out through the gates, and started on their journey to the dominion of the Weres. As Nasir looked back one more time at Lucius’ mansion, he saw the stone shining like rose-gold in the sunrise, and he could just make out the figure of Lucius, standing on the rampart, his hand raised in a farewell and blessing.

***

 

They proceeded at a jog, Mira in the lead with Saxa, followed by Gannicus and Spartacus, then Nasir and Sibyl. Crixus and Agron brought up the rear. As they jogged along, Crixus suddenly spoke.

“I…I cannot express my gratitude to you, Agron. You did not have to come with me to find Naevia, you and Nasir could have stayed and been safe and peaceful. You gave your companionship and help where most just offered condolences.”

“Do not speak of it, brother,” replied Agron. “Naevia is as my sister. And I would sooner die than let Nasir go on a quest such as this without me, and I knew he would not be persuaded to stay. Besides, you are fucking bad company without Naevia.” Crixus gave a grunt which was the closest thing to a laugh that Agron had heard from him in weeks.

“Nevertheless. Gratitude.” Agron clapped him on the shoulder, and they continued in silence.

As they approached the land boundary between Lucius’ domain and that of the Weres, they slowed.

“Remember,” said Mira. “I have lived next to these people all my life. I know their ways and customs, so leave the speaking to myself or Sibyl. Particularly you vampires; your voices give you away. Follow me, and for the gods’ sake, do not do anything that will draw unwanted attention to us.”

She turned and set a much slower pace than they had been using up until then. Their new pace and formation reflected the Seers that they were impersonating.

They passed unmolested through the land – in fact, they met very few people, an occurrence which Mira had evidently not been expecting. As they drew closer to the centre, Nasir’s Tracker eyes made out a shape in the distance which had to be the dwelling place of Lucretia and her horde of Weres. As they came within a mile of this building, they were accosted by an armed group of Weres, all wearing the snake sign which was the symbol of the House of Batiatus.

“Halt! Who are you and where are you bound?” The leader of this group of Weres was well built (though smaller than Agron and Crixus) and had a belligerent tone. Sibyl stepped forward and lowered her hood, revealing the swirled tattoos on her cheeks and neck which showed that she was a Seer.

“I am Serena Oracliana, Seer from the Grecian sisterhood. This woman is our Guide, and these men and women are some of my brothers and sisters, all of whom have taken a vow of silence and isolation, as represented by the hoods covering their faces. I must respectfully ask you to keep your distance from them. They are all in a state of semi-trance, waiting for the gods to allow them to See. We have been travelling all night, and would be grateful for a place to shelter and rest for a few hours before we continue.”

The lead Were looked over the group contemptuously and spat.

"Seers. All a bunch of self-righteous, lying twats, if you ask me. But harmless, unless you pay attention to their prophecies. Come with me; I will take you to my master and mistress, and if they do not like you, well…” he leered at Sibyl and Spartacus felt Gannicus tense beside him, “you should be good for a fuck or a meal, at least. Who knows, we may even Change the most worthy of you – you may make better Weres than Seers. Come.” Sibyl inclined her head graciously, and the others fell in behind her and the Weres.

They were escorted to the headquarters of Lucretia. The building was of the same sandstone as Lucius’, but there similarities ended. While the vampire centre was disguised and organised, the home of the Roman Weres was chaos. Men and women lay everywhere, sometimes shamelessly entwined with one another, or on groups. Some were asleep, snoring and with emptied jugs of wine in their hands. Crixus wrinkled his nose as the smell hit him. Sex and wine and sweat and animals were all mingled in an overpowering odour.

The building itself was large and sprawling, but disorganised and unclean. Flies were everywhere and it was obvious that when the Weres were their animal selves they made messes that they did not clear up once they had changed back. The group were led into the mansion, which was blessedly cool after the oppressive heat, but still cluttered with writhing and sleeping bodies. Some of them turned to watch as the strangers walked past, staring with bleary and suspicious eyes. Once they reached a large, opulent chamber, the guard turned to them.

“Wait here.” He made a gesture to the other guards, who stayed with the group. Crixus and Spartacus caught one another’s eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly. Crixus and Gannicus edged to the front of the group, just behind Sibyl, who was joined by Nasir. Spartacus and Agron stood by each other slightly further back, with Mira in between them. Saxa rolled her shoulders, evidently loosening her arsenal, and stood a little to the side.

The double doors at the end of the room, and Crixus could barely contain himself from erupting in violent fury at the sight of Lucretia. She had blood-red hair, elaborately styled on top of her head, with one strand falling down over her shoulder. Her eyes were cold and arrogant, and her dress was the exact same shade of red as her hair, decorated with bits of golden thread and exposing a large amount of white breast. Her husband stood next to her, a weasel-y looking man with shifty eyes.

Crixus began shaking with anger. This bitch had taken his Naevia, had done gods-knew-what to her, just because of an insult to her pride centuries ago. With a roar, he ripped of his robe and drew his sword, sprinting towards her.

The bitch had to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am off on holiday to an isolated cottage with no internet so there will be no updates for the next couple of weeks. Expect a flood once I'm back though. Have a lovely few weeks and see y'all on the other side!


	5. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus and co have successfully got into Lucretia's lair. They still have to get Naevia and get out alive, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What ho, chaps, I have returned with a ton of new stuff to post, hurrah and huzzah. Hope you've all had a lovely couple of weeks and haven't forgotten too much of what's already happened.

As he charged towards Lucretia, Crixus was vaguely aware of movements behind him. A roar and a huge black shape to one side let him know Agron had Changed and was wreaking havoc, presumably with Spartacus and Mira nearby. Screaming behind him told him Saxa was busy ripping out bellies and throats, probably in both human and caracal form. Lucretia stood before him, expression changing from recognition to anger, to fear. Before he could gut her though, a troop of guards leapt between them. Crixus slashed and hacked and beat his way through, but not fast enough. As the last Were fell from his blade, he saw Lucretia and Batiatus disappear through a small door at the far end of the hall. Before he could give chase, he was grabbed by Gannicus. As he struggled to get free, Gannicus hissed urgently to him, 

“Come brother, remember our quest, all the more vital now Lucretia knows you are here. We must find Naevia!”

At that beloved name, the rest mist faded from Crixus’ eyes, and he stopped struggling against Gannicus. He turned in time to see Nasir pull his silver spear out of a half-transformed Were. Nasir shouted, “This way!” and sprinted out of a side door. 

Crixus and Gannicus charged after Nasir, cutting down any who stood in their way. Lethargic and half-asleep Weres were not much of a challenge for Vampire Kings. Most of them were quite young anyway, which meant they could not yet transform at will any time of the month. Lucretia and Batiatus obviously liked being the most powerful so none would dare challenge them. They were going to regret that decision. 

The trio raced further and further into the bowels of Lucretia’s lair, determined to free Naevia or die in attempt. 

***

Sibyl tucked herself into a small hollow hidden by a curtain, near to the gates. It was comparatively peaceful out here, and she was able to keep an Eye on her comrades, calling down hexes and curses on many who threatened her friends. She may not be a warrior, but that did not mean she was not a great asset and a formidable enemy in a fight. 

***

Saxa whirled and spun, the centre of a tornado of blades and blood. Sometimes she would Shift, and bound effortlessly from one hapless victim to another. She would then reappear in human form, complete with her armour and weapons. That was an advantage Shifters had over Weres: they could Change like lightening, and when they resumed human form it was with whatever that been wearing and holding before the Shift. The bloody whirlwind continued, consuming all in its path. 

***

Agron roared as he charged through the Weres, biting and raking with his claws. When Weres were transformed, they forgot their humanity and identity, and were single-minded towards the kill. While this meant that they were ferocious fighters consumed by berserker rage, they paid little heed to strategy and were not fussy as to target, just as likely to turn on one of their own as they were to an enemy. Shifters retained all their human memories and training, and were therefore able to fight with more intelligence, if less consumed by bloodlust. Mira and Spartacus fought alongside Agron. Whenever she spotted a cluster of Weres up ahead, Mira would leap onto Agron’s back and he would charge as she fired off arrow after arrow. Spartacus kept pace with them, dealing out death to all who crossed his silver blade. 

***

As they descended further into darkness, the sounds of fighting died away and were replaced by the sounds of chains clanking, whips cracking, and voices crying out in pain and despair. As Nasir led Crixus and Gannicus round a corner, they beheld a vast cavern. Dimly lit, it was hard to tell exactly how high and wide it was, but it was monstrous. Evidently Batiatus and Lucretia wished to extend their dwelling-place outwards and underground – perhaps so far that they would be granted invisible access to neighbouring realms. 

The cavern was peopled with men and women of all ages, chained together and forced to hack at the walls or carry huge baskets of rock. Weres patrolled, whipping, beating and raping wherever and whoever they saw fit. Before Nasir could lead the way to where Naevia was presumably chained alongside the others, the doors burst open and the guard who had first spoken to them ran in. One of the other guards hailed him. 

“Gnaeus! What brings you here? Come to play with that pretty little boy again, or have you grown tired of his ass?” Gannicus felt Nasir tense with anger beside him.   
“We are under attack!” shouted Gnaeus. “The Gaul Vampire King attempts to rescue his beloved, and the Mistress commands us to bring the little bitch to her.” The guard Gnaeus was addressing made a gesture, and two other Weres unchained a woman and hoisted her up between them. Her once luxurious black hair was soiled, matted and ragged. Her skin was covered in bruises and welts and dried blood. One of the guards said something to her and began to lift her skirt. She struggled weakly and he struck a vicious backhanded blow across her cheek and laughed when she lost her balance and fell. 

At that moment, Crixus felt his heart break and his self-control shatter. A red fog descended across his vision. He bellowed and leaped forwards, cutting through muscle and bone like it was butter. His broadsword was everywhere, the blade slicing veins and the pommel smashing bones. He reached the two Weres and Naevia in almost no time. He cut down both Weres, taking particularly savage pleasure in the dying moan of the one who had dared lay hand on Naevia. Nasir went straight for Gnaeus, driving his spear with unnecessary force through the man’s throat and giving a feral snarl as his face was drenched in the man’s life-blood.   
Naevia by this point was cowering on the floor, trying to shield herself from whatever punishment she thought was about to be delivered upon her for resisting the guard. Crixus approached her slowly and carefully. 

“Naevia?” His hands travelled gently up her scarred, trembling back and over her painfully thin shoulders. “It’s me, Naevia. It’s Crixus. I’m here now, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Naevia slowly turned, disbelief and a tiny spark of something else…hope? in her eyes. 

“Crixus?” Gently, he put his arms around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. For that moment it was as if time had frozen, and Crixus and Naevia the only two beings in existence. They drank in the sight of one another as a man who has been living in the desert drinks iced water when he returns home. Naevia had not felt so safe and loved for what felt like a lifetime. She gazed into the warm, expressive brown eyes that she loved so well, that light that seemed to be present only when he was looking at her shining out. She was home. This reprieve was not to last however, and Gannicus broke into the lovers’ trance by shouting,   
“Crixus! We must go now! We must seize opportunity given by freeing these prisoners!” Nasir came up on the other side of Naevia, gently hugged her, then he and Crixus helped her along at a run. 

They had almost made it to the daylight when a cold, all-too-familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Crixus, how kind of you to pay Batiatus and me a visit. You are remiss, however. Leaving absent farewell? Making off with my property? I simply cannot allow it.” As if by some fell magic, rank upon rank of Weres appeared, blocking off all possible means of escape. They were obviously older and better trained than the guards who had, up till now, been the only ones fighting. Crixus and Nasir were hampered by Naevia, and Gannicus could not defeat so many on his own. Above them, Lucretia emerged on a balcony, eyes glittering coldly with triumph. It was all a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say that all of my lore and mythology is made up, so if I offend any experts out there, I'm sorry - I basically make it up on the spot so it works with the story!  
> As always, feedback is welcome.


	6. Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang, with their various agendas, attempt to get out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The benefit of having been without internet for two weeks: deluge of stuff to upload once I get back, so cliffhangers are slightly less horrifying.

Spartacus, Mira and Agron had made it to the guest quarters, where everything was unnervingly still and quiet. 

“Gratitude for your aid, Mira,” said Spartacus. “I would have you re-join our comrades now and help get Naevia to safety.” Mira nodded, wished them good fortune, and sprinted back the way they had come. 

“I mislike the silence of this place,” growled Agron, who was once more in human form. “Surely this should be more heavily guarded?” 

“We must proceed cautiously,” replied Spartacus. “Keep a sharp eye out for ambush.” Weapons drawn, they walked quietly into the entrance hall. However, here they were stopped short. 

At the top of a wide and gracefully curved staircase stood one of the most beautiful women either Spartacus or Agron had ever seen. Golden hair cascaded in shining ringlets over her shoulders and down her back. Apart from various precious stones woven into it, her hair was unbound. She was clad in a diaphanous robe which was open at the front, clearly showing that she wore nothing underneath. Golden chains hung down between and under her breasts, round her throat, over her hips and around her waist. She smiled sweetly at the two gaping men and held out a hand to them, beckoning. 

“Come closer, brave warriors. I would gaze upon your faces.” Her voice was soft and smiling and seductive. 

“I…Ilythia…” Spartacus managed to stammer out. His hand made a jerking movement , then his sword clattered out of his grasp and his hand fell by his side. 

“Good boy, clever boy,” Ilythia purred. “Now come here and show me just how good you can be.”

“Spartacus…no…Sura…” Agron managed to get out. Spartacus stopped and blinked as if coming out of a deep sleep. Ilythia turned the full force of her gaze and smile on Agron. 

“Brave, strong Agron,” she murmured. She began gliding down the stairs towards him, shedding her robe as she went, exposing flawless, milky-white skin, the fine golden chains glinting. “You are truly a colossus among men. It makes me wet to think of how you will stretch me, fill me, claim me as your own.” Agron slowly moved so he was standing just below her on the stairs, gazing up at her. Her eyes lit with triumph, but before she could strike, Agron drew a knife and plunged it into her. 

“My taste is not for white-and-golden women,” he hissed. “But for a dark-skinned, dark-haired man who owns me entirely.” Ilythia shrieked in rage and pain, disappearing into a flock of ravens. It was impossible to tell whether she yet lived. 

Agron moved back to where Spartacus was crouching, clutching his head and moaning. 

“Sura…forgive me…” Agron placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“You are not at fault. She was a being of magic, she enchanted you.”

“And yet you withstood her enchantment.”

“Yet perhaps she had been in form of a man, I would have succumbed and you would have resisted. Sura will understand.” Spartacus clasped Agron’s forearm and stood. However, before they had advanced more than a few paces, another figure appeared at the top of the stairs. 

“Glaber,” growled Spartacus. The man stared down at them, pure hatred darting out of him eyes. 

“You will pay for what you have done to my wife,” he said in a strangely hypnotic voice. “She is grievously injured and I leave now to be with her. I want you to live for a while longer in fear, expecting the killing blow yet not knowing when or where it will fall. We shall meet again, Spartacus, and I will take you from your precious wife once and for all.” He spun and disappeared in a column of fire. Spartacus shook with anger and grief and seemed unable to focus on anything, so Agron Changed and, Spartacus on his back, loped back to find their comrades. 

***

Crixus stepped in front of Naevia, shielding her with his body. 

“Let Naevia and my friends go, Lucretia. Your quarrel is with me alone.” 

Lucretia smiled. “I disagree. Certainly, you have done me great wrong, but so has the slut now cowering behind you, for she stole your affections away from me.”  
“You never held any place in my heart!” Crixus spat. “Ours was only ever an alliance of convenience, nothing more.”

“Your friends have also done me injury,” Lucretia continued as though Crixus had not spoken. “They have invaded our home and killed our people. No, Crixus, I am afraid you must all be punished.” Batiatus stepped forward and raised his arms. 

“To show our great mercy, we will allow two of you to keep your lives. You will belong to us and fight in the arena as my gladiators or be set to work the mines. The other two will die. Take a moment and choose who lives and who fights.” Crixus put his arm securely around Naevia and turned to face Gannicus and Nasir.   
“We will punch straight through,” he said. “Naevia, do you have the strength to hold on and stay on my back as I fight?”

“I…I think so.”

“Good. We will fight our way out and rendezvous with the others, then decide with them what to do from there.”

“Prisoners, have you decided?” Batiatus broke in on the discussion. Crixus faced him and Lucretia. 

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Fuck you.” Naevia leapt onto Crixus’ back and clung like a monkey as the three warriors drew their weapons and charged, bulldozing a path through the surprised Weres. Many of the soldiers out up a brave fight once they had gathered their wits, but they were too late, and no match for their opponents. Crixus in particular was invincible, his need to protect Naevia and get her to safety overwhelming everything else and destroying anything that tried to prevent him from reaching this goal. 

They burst out into an open corridor, and Nasir took the lead, guiding them to the rendezvous point. Sibyl and Mira were already waiting there, and Nasir breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Agron approaching with Spartacus. A few moments later, Saxa jogged up, covered in streaks of blood like war-paint. 

“Apologies,” she panted. “I thought greater distraction could be caused if I freed Batiatus’ gladiators and stirred them to rebellion.” Agron roared with laughter and clapped her on the back. 

“You crazy bitch, all on your own?” Saxa rolled her eyes and didn’t dignify him with an answer. Mira answered for her. 

“I imagine the crazy bitch’s actions are the reason why we find ourselves now in a courtyard absent Weres,” she smiled. 

“Not for long,” replied Gannicus. “Lucretia and Batiatus pursue us with a horde, and they gain on us as we stand gossiping as fishwives.”

“Here is the plan,” said Crixus. “Spartacus will take Naevia. Nasir, Mira and Sibyl will go with them and take the shortest route back to Lucius’ lands. Gannicus, Saxa and I will draw off Lucretia and buy you the time to get away.”

“No!” cried Naevia. “Crixus, do not send me from your side – do not ask me to bear being apart from you again!” Crixus cupped her cheeks, and looked into her eyes with infinite tenderness. 

“My heart. This is the best way that I can ensure your safety and freedom. I cannot lose you again. Please?” Tears slipped from Naevia’s eyes, but she nodded. Sibyl stood forward, her face serene. 

“I too will stay.” Gannicus began to protest, but she cut him short. “Can any of the rest of you call down curses that open up trenches in the earth? Or call down bolts of pure energy from the skies? You need me with you if we are to slow down the Weres long enough for the others to get away. I stay.”

“Very well,” said Crixus. “Gratitude, Sibyl.” He rested his forehead gently against Naevia’s for a moment, then broke away. Naevia began weeping silently, sobs wracking her body. Spartacus and Mira had to all but drag her away. Crixus watched her safely out of the gates, then turned to face the Weres charging towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, another cliffhanger. Sorry 'bout that...


	7. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chaps find themselves in a somewhat sticky situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters! More cliffhangers! Rum all round!

“Staggered defence!” yelled Gannicus. “Sibyl, get to the back and get hexing!” The fanned out at different distances. Crixus met the first wave of attackers, then fell back, allowing Gannicus to take on the second. When he had repulsed them, he too fell back, and Saxa took the third wave of Weres, shrieking obscene battle cries. The fourth wave was faced with Agron, equally deadly as bear or man. Sibyl slowly retreated, casting curses which blocked and slowed the Were army. They continued in this fashion for as long as they could, slowly falling back and taking it in turns to face the horde and slow it down. However, it gradually became apparent that their plan was beginning to fail as they repulsed fewer Weres with each attack. Channelling godly powers was exhausting, and Sibyl was pale and trembling, her forehead covered in beads of sweat. Agron and Saxa were both bleeding from dozens of shallow cuts, and even Crixus and Gannicus were aware that they could not continue with this course of action indefinitely.

“Agron!” Gannicus shouted to the bear as Saxa rushed past them to take on the Weres. “Take Sibyl and go! She has spent her strength in helping us and now has none to help herself! Get her out of here!” his tone brooked no argument, and Agron obediently lumbered over to Sibyl. As she an Agron galloped away, she flung a hand back out towards the Weres. A deep fissure opened in the ground between the Weres and their quarry, buying Crixus, Gannicus and Saxa a breathing space. “We cannot keep going like this,” said Gannicus. “We must change tactics or be drowned in this fucking sea of Weres.” Crixus looked around.

“We make for high ground - the wooded hill over yonder, make our final stand there. We will make the blood of those fucking Were shits run in rivers. Are we of an accord?” Saxa grinned and gave a feral snarl, and the three sprinted for the hill, reaching it well ahead of the Weres. It would be useless to make a break for the border, as the vanguard of the Weres had transformed and a howling group of wolves, tigers and hyenas was charging up the slope. Saxa Shifted and threw herself into their midst. Crixus and Gannicus picked off any who got past her. However, the main horde was soon upon them, a bewildering mixture of beasts and people at various stages of transformation. Although Crixus, Gannicus and Saxa cut down many, more seemed to spring up in their place. Even vampires tire eventually, and Crixus began to feel his reactions getting slower, his breaths getting shorter, his blows becoming weaker. Gannicus was down to one sword, the other stuck somewhere in the skull of a half-changed wolf. Saxa was Changing less and less frequently.

“I will hold them! Go, join the others and get to safety!” Crixus yelled. Gannicus laughed.

“And leave you to reap all the glory of this battle? Never!” Saxa, never one to waste words, simply snarled and decapitated a leaping jackal.

Had he been on his own, Crixus would have surrendered by this point, trusting that Lucretia’s desire to make him suffer before she finally killed him would divert her attention for long enough to allow Naevia and the others to escape. However, he could not make that decision for Gannicus and Saxa, and so instead resolved himself to a glorious death in battle. They were pushed back until they were surrounded at the very summit of the hill, around a huge oak tree. Backs pressed against the trunk, the trio raised their weapons in readiness for the final push.

Saxa thought back to her childhood, long-past days of innocence in seemingly endless, golden afternoons. She thought of playing in the fields with her cousins Agron and Duro when they were all beginning to learn their powers. They were as close as siblings, getting each other into trouble but always there to get each other out too. But not this time. Duro was dead, and Agron had his own task to fulfil. She sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, to keep Agron safe. And then she thought of a pair of dark eyes and a freckled nose, of black hair and a secretive smile, silver arrows flying true, and a lithe form which Saxa wished she had been granted the time to get to know.

Gannicus thought of Sibyl, of how he had saved her life and then been irritated by her constant attempts to thank him and be close to him. He remembered how he had slowly discovered her inner strength, the strength which made her one of the most powerful Seers in the land. He remembered feeling her in his arms for the first time, under him, around him, writhing in pleasure as she arched and exposed her white throat, whispering his name in breathy moans. He thought of her complete trust in him and, over the first decades of their time together, his realisation that she was his moral compass, the source of his strength and peace, the steady rock upon which he was built. _You said the gods sent me to save you_ , he had once said to her, _but in truth you were the one sent, and I in need of saving._

Naevia consumed Crixus’ thoughts. He had never really expected to fall in love, never sought it out. Then, suddenly, she had been there, frowning disapprovingly at him, and filling his world with a light that he did not know had been absent until it shone on his heart. He had been hers from that moment. Her will, as he had often found, was of iron, yet she also had the kindest heart of anyone he had ever known. Even, it seemed after the ordeal she had been forced to endure because of his love for her. Through her tears, he had seen her ask Nasir if he was well and unhurt. He smiled at the thought of her laugh, her skin, the whimpers and sighs she would make as he brought her to ecstasy with his touch. He would welcome the afterlife, having known the love of a goddess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love feedback, we do, we do.


	8. Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crixus, Gannicus and Saxa are surrounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...NO GUYS SERIOUSLY I CAN'T STOP  
> More and more characters are coming in and this is getting far longer and more involved than it was supposed to be but I'm just having too much fun.   
> Feel free to tell me to shut up and stop writing if it gets wearisome though.

Batiatus and Lucretia made their way unhurriedly up the hill. Not for them the common means of transport on foot or paw; they rode in a chariot of iron, wrought with scenes of battle and blood in the arena. One of the older wolves came to meet them. 

“Report!” barked Batiatus. 

“We have them surrounded, Dominus,” the man said. “They are exhausted and trapped, and await only the final blow to send them to the afterlife.” Batiatus turned to his wife. 

“Well my love, it seems it is time to finally punish Crixus once and for all for the wrongs he has done you. We can deal with his little woman once he is no longer there to protect her.” Lucretia smiled a smile that did not seem to reach her pale blue eyes, and she and her husband went at a leisurely pace through the ranks of their army until they reached their trapped opponents. Batiatus raised his arm to give the final command to kill, but he never gave the signal. From both sides of the Were army, there were sudden screams and shouts, the noise of steel clashing on steel, as well as softer targets, ringing. Crixus took the opportunity afforded by the distraction to leap into the chariot, dispatching Batiatus with one swipe across the throat. At Lucius’ mansion, they had all taken up weapons of pure silver so as to ensure the death of the Weres they fought. Lucretia screamed in rage and grief at the sight of her dead husband, and began to transform. Her red hair elongated and covered her entire body. Her fingers changed into wickedly sharp claws, her bared teeth into fangs, and she leaped at Crixus, a huge red tiger, roaring and consumed with bloodlust. He parried her strikes, and sparks flew as she raked her claws across his sword. Back and forth they swung at each other, inflicting dozens of cuts. Gradually, Crixus began to gain the upper hand. Feinting to the left, he span round Lucretia and dealt her a blow which sent her flying into the trunk of the oak tree. She changed back into a woman and backed away from Crixus, holding up her hands. 

“Crixus, please,” she said, attempting an ingratiating smile. “I am sure we can come to some arrangement. Spare my life, and I will see to it that you are never troubled by Weres again. You will be granted safe passage off my lands, and you will never hear from me.” Crixus, his sword and his clothes covered in blood, continued to advance. 

“Tell me this,” he snarled. “Did you harm Naevia? Did you allow others to harm her? All those welts and bruises and scars on her body – did you watch and laugh as they were inflicted? Did you send her to work in the piss and shit of those mines? Think of your true answer, and tell me: do you think you deserve to live, after what you have done?” Lucretia changed tack. 

“I am with child, Crixus,” she said, somewhat frenziedly. “You would not harm an innocent child?” Crixus paused. Lucretia saw her chance and leapt at him, her hand transformed so it was a deadly claw. Fast as lightening, Crixus stabbed her in the belly. 

“I would rather see the child die,” he growled, “than see it suckle at such a breast as yours.” He withdrew his sword and Lucretia collapsed in a heap at his feet. He turned his back and walked away. 

Seeing that their leaders had fallen, the Weres broke up and fled, leaving Crixus, Gannicus and Saxa to see who had so unexpectedly saved them. 

On one side was a large group of men and women, all dressed in similar leather subligarias, the women with tops as well. All had a `B` branded into the skin of their inner right forearm. The man at the front of this group, a huge, olive-skinned man with long black dreadlocks, stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully. 

“Gratitude for your aid, friend,” said Gannicus. “To whom do we owe it?”

“I am Barca,” replied the man. “One of Batiatus’ gladiators. Your friend there,” he nodded towards Saxa, “broke our chains and set us free. We saw you leave pursued by the Weres, so once we had freed all the other slaves and prisoners, we gave chase to see if we could help you, and thus repay some of the debt we owe.” 

“There is no debt,” said Crixus, embracing Barca as a brother. “You saved our lives. If you have homes and families, you are now free to return to them. If you have nowhere, come with us and be welcome. We will keep you safe until you find a home.” 

Leaving Saxa to organise the freed slaves, Gannicus and Crixus walked over to the people who had attacked the other side of the Were army. There stood a tall man, skin black as ebony, who exuded dignity, his sinewy arms, whip and sword also testifying to his skill as a warrior. Next to him stood a beautiful woman, black hair swept over her shoulder, serene brown eyes shining. 

“Oenomaus!” Gannicus embraced him, then turned to the woman and hugged her. “And Melitta! What is your husband about, bringing you to a battlefield?” Melitta smiled. 

“And where should a Healer be, if not in a place where Healing is needed? And do not preach to me of wives and battlefields Gannicus, we met Sibyl on our way here!” She turned to Crixus and touched his arm. “I pray we did not arrive too late. Naevia?”

“She got away,” he replied, and as he said it, it sank in. He had done it. He had got Naevia back. An overwhelming happiness welled up inside him and he let out a shout of joy and whirled Melitta round as he laughed, then clasped Oenomaus’ shoulders. “She is safe!”

“Welcome news indeed,” smiled Oenomaus. Then his gaze travelled past Crixus and his eyes widened in incredulity. “Barca?”

“Oenomaus? Your Majesty!” Barca sank down on one knee. Oenomaus went over and raised him up. 

“How do you come to be here? When you went missing Ashur told us you had decided to leave the coven and asked not to be followed.”

Barca spat. “The fuck I did. He tricked me and sold me to Batiatus to be one of his fucking gladiators.” Oenomaus’ smile faded, and his face took on a grim expression. 

“This news saddens, but does not surprise. A few years after you left, Ashur was banished from the coven and exiled from my lands for his many schemes and betrayals. Recently he resurfaced on the border of my lands –the reason for my being unable to come and help my brothers here until now.”

“You came when you were most needed,” said Crixus warmly. 

“Well, if all these heart-warming reunions are done, may I suggest we return to Lucius’ home?” Gannicus interposed. “There is a heart-warming reunion I would have that involves my wife and my bed, and I imagine Crixus would like some uninterrupted time with Naevia, too.” Laughing and talking, the enlarged force made their way down the side of the hill, towards the border, where they could leave the Weres behind forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barca! And Oenomaus! And Melitta! And no cliffhangers!  
> My work here is done; I can go to bed with a clear conscience.


	9. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mira, Spartacus, Naevia and Nasir try to escape through the forest, pursued by Were patrols.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time-wise this one is kind of parallel then straight after the last chapter. I think (hope) it's fairly clear.

Mira was in the lead, taking the shortest way possible back to Lucius’ lands. Spartacus and Nasir followed, supporting Naevia between them. Every so often, Nasir would drop behind to cover their tracks. One of the skills, other than the obvious, of being a Tracker was the ability to cover trails so that no other Tracker could follow them, and Nasir now put this to good use. They were going through the forest rather than the scrublands through which they had gone that morning, because the trees afforded them greater shelter. Though she had devoted the vast majority of her force to hunting down Crixus, Lucretia had ordered several patrols to search for Naevia, to kill her or bring her back. They had almost been caught several times, and were going slower and slower as Naevia, her legs unused to such exercise, became weaker. 

“Not far now, Naevia,” said Nasir as he helped her stagger along. He regretted his words a moment later when calls and howls came from a little way behind them, and were answered by more ahead of them.

“Mira, come and help Nasir with Naevia!” shouted Spartacus. “I’ll hold them off!” Mira dropped back and between them, she and Nasir managed to coax Naevia’s limbs into a run. They sprinted almost blindly through the trees, trusting to Mira’s ability to keep them heading in the right direction. Naevia’s foot caught on a root half-hidden by dead leaves, and went down heavily. Before she could get up, a man emerged through the trees and started for her. 

“You made me run,” he said, puffing. “I fucking hate running.” He raised his sword, but was stopped by Mira jumping onto his back and driving her knife into his neck and one of Nasir’s throwing spears in his belly. As he fell, Mira rushed past Naevia, shouting,

“Keep running West!” Nasir had his spear in hand, whirling and striking with deadly skill. However, as Naevia watched in horror, a sword blow to the side had Nasir falling, spear clattering down next to him. Time seemed to stand still, and Naevia felt a great anger rise in her. These bastards had already taken too much from her; they would not take her best friend too. She picked up Nasir’s spear and ran to stand over him and defend him. Once she had, with a lucky stroke, felled the man who injured Nasir, she closed her eyes and felt her power begin to course once more through her veins, power which she had been prevented from using under Batiatus’ roof. Now she unleashed it. She called on all the animals whose life-force she felt nearby. She asked the birds to swarm around her enemies’ heads, pecking at their eyes. She asked tree-dwellers to leap onto faces, scratching and biting, before returning to cover in the trees. She gave all the animals different tasks: trip, confuse, blind. She asked them not to put themselves directly into danger by a head-on attack, and healed any who were hurt by a lucky strike from a Were. She just needed enough of a distraction to get Nasir away. 

The animals responded enthusiastically, and in the ensuing chaos Naevia checked on Nasir. He was a worrying sight. His face was ashen, his breaths came in short gasps, and he was barely conscious. The gash in his side looked to be both wide and deep, and it was clear he would not be able to walk, and equally clear that Naevia could not carry him on her own. 

“Spartacus!” she called as she saw him re-join them. He came over and frowned when he saw Nasir. “He was fighting two Weres at once, and another came up behind him and cut him,” explained Naevia. “I have seen wounds like this before, and it is vital that we seal it as soon as possible.” The Weres having been for the moment quelled, Mira came over and started a fire, which Spartacus held his sword over. Once it was glowing red, he took it out and, as Mira and Naevia held him down, pressed the sword to Nasir’s wound. Nasir shook and screamed struggling against the hands holding him. Once the wound was cauterised, Spartacus lifted Nasir over his shoulder, and the group jogged off once more. 

They went unchallenged, until Mira, a little way ahead, gestured for them to stop. A mist had descended over the forest, and the muffled sounds of footsteps carried over to where they stood. There was nowhere to run; Spartacus was hindered by Nasir, and Naevia was drained by the rescue and the use of a large amount of her power after so long. There was nothing for it but to gather what strength and weapons they yet had left, and wait. 

Figures began to emerge from the mist. They were unfamiliar, but did not seem hostile, approaching with caution rather than aggression. The foremost of them, a young man with black curly hair and skin slightly darker than Nasir’s, stepped forward. 

“Spartacus?” Mira looked shocked, and Naevia called off the animals she had waiting to attack. Spartacus stepped towards the man. 

“I go by that name.” The young man’s face broke into a smile. 

“Thank the gods we have found you! We had begun to despair! Forgive me; I should explain. My name is Pietros, and we are freed slaves and prisoners from the House of Batiatus. We were set free by your friends, and then joined the force led by one of the gladiators, Barca,” he said the name almost reverently, “and helped your friends defeat the Weres.” Naevia stepped forward, her face suddenly alight with hope as she gripped Pietros’ arm. 

“Crixus? He yet lives?” Pietros beamed at her. 

“All of your friends live, which is more than I can say for Lucretia and Batiatus. When the battle was won, Saxa asked for volunteers to look for you and help you safely from these lands.” His beam grew. “And here we are!” Spartacus clasped his hand. 

“Gratitude, Pietros and all of you. We have a wounded man who cannot walk, and must be taken to a Healer as soon as possible. Are there any among you?” Pietros shook his head. 

“Apologies. Batiatus kept only one to tend to the gladiators. We can make a stretcher for him though, and thus bear him more quickly and comfortably.” Nasir was gently placed on a makeshift stretcher and borne away. As they crossed the border over into Lucius’ realm, Naevia paused for a moment and looked back. A blood-red sun was setting, casting a red-gold light over the land that had kept her captive, hurt her, taken her from Crixus. But she lived, and he lived, and they would soon be reunited. Mira came over and stood next to her silently for a moment before taking her hand and leading her onwards. 

“Come, Naevia. Do not dwell on the past. You are safe now, and safe you will stay.”


	10. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many reunions. That's pretty much it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this one today but I really love the ending so I decided to ditch my plan of not-posting-more-than-one-chapter-a-day and just go crazy.   
> This is just a general point: in this fic there is no Gannicus/Melitta past, present or future. Thought I'd just better make that clear in case anyone was expecting it!

Mira led them through Lucius’ gates. He was waiting for them just inside, along with Sibyl and Agron. He came forward and hugged Mira, then Spartacus and Naevia. 

“You are most welcome, friends. Though I see you have returned with more than you planned! Welcome, all!” The celebratory atmosphere was short-lived, however, as the group parted to allow the stretcher-bearers to pass through. Agron let out a strangled cry when he saw Nasir’s pale and unconscious form. 

“What the fuck happened?” he cried as he sprinted to Nasir’s side, hands hovering over him as if he was afraid of doing greater damage by touching. Naevia came over and took his hand. 

“He saved my life and was wounded fighting the Weres.” Agron nodded, barely taking it in. He and Naevia followed the stretcher inside while the others milled around in the courtyard.

“Crixus, Saxa and Gannicus will return soon,” said Sibyl to Lucius and Mira. “Oenomaus and Melitta will be with them, as will a large group of freed prisoners. It would be wise to start preparing to accommodate them.” Lucius agreed and went off to make arrangements. Mira lingered for a moment. 

“Saxa is safe then? You have Seen it?” Sibyl smiled and nodded, and Mira could have sworn she saw the Seer wink at her before moving off. 

Before long, the lookouts reported the return of Crixus and the rest. They came through the gates, smiling and laughing. Oenomaus and Spartacus embraced. Sibyl came flying through the crowd and into Gannicus’ arms to be thoroughly kissed. Melitta was taken off immediately to tend to Nasir. Mira stood somewhat shyly as Saxa came towards her. The shyness soon fled as Saxa grabbed her and kissed her. Pietros walked over to where Barca was standing, touched his arm lightly, and shyly introduced himself. By the way the bigger man stared at Pietros, the admiration was not just one-sided. 

Naevia walked slowly out into the sunny courtyard, searching desperately for that one beloved face to appear. He emerged through the crowd, and husband and wife ran for each other and collided, holding each other as though life depended on it. Crixus ran his hands up and down Naevia’s body, as much for the simple joy of touching her as checking for serious injury. 

“Do I yet dream?” murmured Naevia. 

“If you do, then I would never have you wake,” Crixus replied before enfolding her in his arms and pressing his lips to hers. They stayed like that, oblivious to everything around them, until the ever-tactful Gannicus burst upon them, giving Naevia a smacking kiss on the cheek. 

“It gladdens heart to see you safe, Naevia. I hate to intrude, but our gracious host desires to meet you. Crixus has to go and talk some sense into Agron, who I gather won’t let anyone, even Melitta, near Nasir.” Crixus cursed and hesitated, torn. One the one side was his ardent desire – his need – never to let Naevia out of his sight ever again. On the other was his awareness that his best friend, the one who had held him together through the hell he had just gone through, now needed him in the same way. The latter, coupled with Gannicus’ protective stance over Naevia, drew him away to the Healing Bay. 

Melitta was standing by the doorway, her eyes wide with worry, speaking in a calm and soothing voice. 

“Please Agron, I can help Nasir if only you will let me near him.” Agron, however, barely paid heed to her. He had become almost crazed with anxiety over Nasir, and the only thought in his head was to protect his lover from anyone and everyone who might harm him. Unfortunately, this meant that Agron was keeping everyone away from Nasir, most of whom only wanted to help. Agron’s reputation, his intimidating physique, and his wild, bloodshot eyes meant no-one dared try to move him by force. Crixus entered the room, quietly reassuring Melitta and telling her to be ready to go to Nasir as soon as Agron was no longer prowling. For prowling he was, back and forth before Nasir’s bed, turning now and then to growl at any he deemed to be too close. 

Crixus stepped forward and Agron turned to face him, teeth bared in a snarl. Though he had little faith that it would work, Crixus tried the softer approach first.   
“Agron, brother, see reason. I know how you feel; you know that I do, but you must regain sense enough to let Melitta see to Nasir. She is one of the only full Healers in the world, and she is the best. Let her help.” Agron’s only response was to snarl and settle into a half-crouch, signifying his readiness to fight anyone who tried to get close to Nasir. Crixus sighed, and embraced the inevitable. He attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback? Pretty please?


	11. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craevia feels. That's pretty much the long and short of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Agron. And Crixus. And Naev. Pretty much everyone. But especially them. And Nas, and Mira, and Sparty...you get the idea.  
> Also, I'd better just point out that in this fic I use the Greek gods and Greek (/ made-up) mythology.) This is basically because I know more of the Greek versions than the Roman, and I'm lazy and don't want to have to Wikipedia more than strictly necessary.

Agron was slammed into the wall by Crixus’ body hitting him. The two were fairly evenly matched: as one of the Elder Council, made of the Vampire Kings, Crixus had astounding strength and speed; however Agron, chief of the Germanic Shifter clans, had great strength coupled at the moment with a crazed, almost berserker-like state of mind. 

“Come to fucking sense, Agron,” snarled Crixus, arm pressed against Agron’s throat. Agron roared and struggled. Crixus slammed his back into the wall again. “Do you want Nasir to die? Do you?” Agron howled with anger in response to this, twisted and broke free from Crixus’ grip. Crixus, thinking more clearly than Agron, ducked just in time to hear Agron’ fist go whistling over his head. Before Agron could recover, Crixus had him firmly in a headlock. He felt Agron tremble and begin to Change, claws growing, growls deepening, fur sprouting. Crixus looked around desperately (he had no wish to put anyone else in harm’s way) and, seeing a woman marked as a Sleeping Beauty, hissed, “Sleeping-spell! On him! Now!”

Sleeping Beauties were Mages blessed by Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams. They were useful to have as part of a Healer’s team because they could put patients into deep, healing sleeps as well as sedating hysterical friends and family. 

The Sleeping Beauty held out her hands, palms forward, and began to sing. Soft, glowing white tendrils emitted from her palms and wound towards the still-struggling Agron. As they surrounded, he stopped fighting so fiercely, his great heaves diminishing into twitches. His eyes crossed, he slumped, and began breathing sententiously. Crixus heaved him u over his shoulder (no small feat) and carried him out of the room, nodding at Melitta as she shot him a grateful look walking past him to get to Nasir. 

After depositing a snoring Agron in his and Nasir’s room, Crixus went in search of Naevia. Although logically he knew that she was surrounded by people who loved her and had risked their lives to save her, he wanted to be with her always. Having been parted from her for so long, Crixus now counted every moment he had to be away from her. He also did not yet know the full extent of the injuries inflicted on her – physical and mental. It could be overwhelming meeting so many new people – many of whom were some of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world. He was therefore relieved, when he found her, that although she was evidently thankful to have him back at her side, she was maintaining her calm admirably. 

***

Night had fallen. Crixus looked up and marvelled at how, only last night, the moon, so distant, had seemed like the only tenuous link he had left to Naevia. Now, that very same moon shone down upon them in one another’s arms, bathing their reunion in silver. After checking in on Nasir, who was benefitting from his own enchanted sleep, with a clean white bandage round his waist, Crixus led Naevia to their bedroom, realising as the door clicked shut behind them that this was the first time they had been alone since Naevia had been returned to him. He saw that Melitta, gods bless her, had found the time to Heal Naevia’s many cuts and scrapes, although there was one scar on her cheek which looked like it would never fully disappear. He saw that her hair was still matted and dirty, so he took her gently by the hand and led her over to the filled wash-tub. He saw gratefully that dresses and nightclothes had been laid out for Naevia. He undid the remaining laces on her ragged dress, then slipped off the torn and bloodstained piece of cloth that used to be a chemise and petticoat. He placed his lips on her shoulder, by her throat, and she flinched and tensed. Crixus retreated as though burned. Naevia turned to face him, her eyes filling with tears. 

“Crixus, I…I am so sorry – it’s just…what they did to me…I do not want your touch to be tainted by theirs…” Crixus closed the distance between them and cupped her face, looking her in the eye. 

“Naevia, I have spent these last months crazed with worry for you. I have you back now, and I ask for nothing more until you are ready to give it. All I wish is to aid you in your recovery, and all I will ask is that you do not push me away. Let me help you bear this burden, for my shoulders are wide and strong and willing.” Naevia burst into sobs and flung her arms around Crixus. He held her, rubbing her back and kissing her hair until the storm subsided. Then, as weak and submissive as a tired child, she allowed Crixus to lower her into the hot water and rub a sponge over her body. The dirt ran off her in rivulets, muddying the water to such an extent that once her body was clean, Crixus lifted her out of the bath and, after wrapping her in a warm towel by the fire, changed the water before tenderly putting Naevia back in and washing her hair. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, revelling in the pleasurable feeling of Crixus’ strong hands gently massaging her scalp. She was almost asleep by the time he sat her on the edge of the bed and combed the tangles out of her hair. After brushing and drying her hair, Crixus lay on the bed, Naevia’s head pillowed on his chest. She drifted off to sleep, Crixus’ beloved voice rumbling words of love and protection. 

***

A few hours later Crixus awoke with a jolt to the sound of Naevia screaming. Immediately wide-awake, he leapt up, fangs out and ready to kill whoever was threatening her. But there were no intruders, and Naevia was still asleep, tears pouring from her closed eyes. Crixus ran to her side and, not wishing to overwhelm her by enveloping her in his arms, instead lay beside her and, pushing down his own panic, gently brought her out of sleep. He calmed her as he would a frightened horse, with long firm strokes on her hair and down her back and flanks. He waited to put his arms around her (though it was almost physically painful to do so) until she sought his embrace, turning to face him and burying her head in his shoulder. Crixus murmured to her, telling her it was only a dream, he was here, she was safe, just a dream. Finally she stopped shaking and was able to take a few gulping breaths. 

“Would it help to talk of it?” Crixus asked tentatively. 

“I do not know,” replied Naevia. “I barely remember, only that I was back at Batiatus and Lucretia’s lair. I was alone – I think I was running through empty rooms and corridors looking for you, while a voice taunted me and unseen claws ripped at my flesh. I cannot remember whose the voice was, nor what it said.” Crixus drew her close. 

“I will not move from your side unless you will it,” he vowed. “Naevia, listen to me. You will never have to go back there again, and you will never have to look for me because I will always be right here.” Naevia smiled, then yawned and settled her head back on Crixus’ chest. 

“You will not leave me. I am safe.” 

Naevia slept, but Crixus remained awake. Vampires had the ability but not the need to sleep, and so he kept his eyes trained on Naevia’s face, focusing his entire mind on her. 

Naevia slept, and all through that long night he watched, and every time Naevia showed any discomfort, gave any sign of returning nightmare, he whispered to her of his love, of their future together, of his never-ending devotion to her happiness and safety. 

Naevia slept, and Crixus remained beside her awake and watchful, a statue carved from silver moonlight, coming to life only to comfort his sleeping love and see her safely through to morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quite a bit more of this is written but handwritten, so apologies if the posting frequency goes down - I have to catch up with the typing-up!  
> Enjoy and leave feedback if you so wish, it shall make me happy.


	12. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to the beginning of Agron and Nasir's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What ho, fair readers. Here is another chapter for you - several people expressed a wish for a Nagron flashback, and voila, you demand, I deliver. Eventually.   
> Enjoy!

 

_“You favour clever strategy, little man,” Nasir looked quizzically at the big bear-man, who ginned and showed his dimples (gods those dimples). “Fuck the man from behind!”_

_Nasir’s Tracking services had been obtained by a Shifter clan- their leader, Agron wished to find the man responsible for the death of his brother, Duro. Nasir had been with them for two weeks, and had settled in well with the tribe. He knew Lugo, brash and loud and cheerful and strong. He knew Saxa, lithe and crude and scary as fuck, as good a warrior as any of the men, and better than most. And he was getting to know Agron. He was already in love with him. Agron the leader, the bear, the man with the most astonishing green eyes. He was brave and huge and skilled and_ beautiful _, prone to acting before thinking. As signalled by his dimples, he also had a mischievous streak a mile wide. Nasir knew this firsthand. The clan had taken it upon themselves to improve Nasir’ fighting skills, so he joined them in training. Agron thought it was hilarious to walk along the lines tipping people over with his spear. Saxa found it less funny, but that didn’t seem to perturb her cousin._

_Nasir wanted to know Agron better though, better than anyone else. He wanted to map out each line and contour and muscle and scar on Agron’s huge body. However, Nasir was unsure about whether his feelings were reciprocated or not. Agron was boisterous and cheerful amongst his comrades one moment, then solitary, dark and brooding the next. He was also prone to demonstrations of violence against enemies that were, on occasion, astounding. Nasir knew that Duro’s death was still a fresh and painful wound to Agron, and wished that he could provide some measure of comfort and healing. He did not know how to broach the subject, however, so he stayed silent, and watched, and wished._

_Now he returned Agron’s grin sheepishly and hoped he wasn’t blushing too obviously._

_The rest of the clan had made short work of the mercenaries who had been escorting a fresh batch of slaves to Cassuteus, the man who had killed Duro. Agron strode over to a man who was lying with claw marks bleeding sluggishly across his chest._

_“I seek information,” growled Agron. Gone were the dimples and cheeky smile of the moment before. Now his face looked as if it was carved of stone, and no hint of mercy pervaded expression or bearing._

_“I know nothing!” cried the man. A moment later he howled in pain as Agron stepped slowly, deliberately and hard on his wounds. “We bear slaves for Cassuteus’ ludus – that is all I know, I swear!”_

_“Your devotion to your master is truly touching,” sneered Agron, “yet I would have more information.” He scratched his fingers along the man’s wound. “I have a Tracker; I do not need to know where you are going. I want to know more of Cassuteus’ ludus: entrances, exits, fortifications and the like. And you are going to tell me.” Nasir left Agron to his interrogation, feeling he was needed elsewhere, and not particularly wanting to watch in any case. He did not see Agron to speak to for the rest of the day, only observing him return to camp with a grim look on his face and wiping blood off his sword._

_Later that night, Nasir, carrying two cups of wine and some bread, made his way through the sleeping camp, past the sentries, and to a large, upstanding rock a little way off, upon which Agron sat. Nasir climbed up and sat next to him._

_“You have not eaten since this morning. Here; bread, and wine to wash it down.” Agron took the proffered cups and food and set them down on a flat section of the rock beside him._

_“Gratitude. But,” the green eyes were fixed on Nasir with a curious expression in them. “It is not part of your job to be my nursemaid.” Nasir chuckled and met Agron’s gaze._

_“Yet I would not have our great leader faint from lack of food and drink!” Agron guffawed and nudged Nasir with his shoulder, sending an electrifying tingle through both of them. In order to stop himself thinking too much about the implications of his reaction to that brief touch, Nasir said the first thing that entered his head._

_“Did you get the information you wanted from that man today?” Agron’s jaw clenched._

_“Yes.” He replied shortly. His gaze dropped to his fists, clenched upon his lap. “I…I am sorry you had to see that today. Sorry you had to see me like that.” Nasir frowned._

_“Agron, I am not a child to be coddled. I am a warrior.”_

_“One of which I am most proud,” smiled Agron, a hint of those dimples appearing for a moment. Then his expression became sombre once more. “I just…I know not why, but it matters to me that you understand. My brother, Duro, he was all I had. We never knew our parents, my whole life was dedicated to protecting him. When we were captured by Cassuteus’ men, I was almost killed trying to fight them all at once so Duro would be able to escape. But he wouldn’t leave me. Even when we were forced to fight in the arena, we always fought as a pair. Together. We lived for each other. When we broke out of the ludus, there was much blood and fighting. I was busy fighting several guards at once, and Cassuteus crept up behind me with a dagger. I did not see him, but Duro did. He pushed me aside and took the blow meant for me. He died in my arms.” Agron’s emerald eyes were unusually bright, and he scrubbed the back of his hand violently across them. “Ever since, nought but blood and vengeance has occupied my thoughts. Until you came and changed that.” The last sentence was muttered as Agron turned to take a mouthful of wine, and Nasir was not sure whether he had been meant to hear it or not. Nevertheless, his heart soared. He reached out and took Agron’s hand, entwining their fingers. Gods knew when Agron had last experienced loving touch. Probably not since his brother. Chocolate-brown eyes stared earnestly into forest-green._

_“I swear to you Agron, I will do everything in my power to help you. Even if it costs me my life, you will have peace.” Agron smiled, closing his eyes wearily and resting his forehead against Nasir’s._

_“Gratitude,” he murmured. “But I cannot help but feel that you are worth far more to me alive than you would be dead. Your presence brings me peace Nasir, and I pray you never leave my side._

_They sat there most of the night, leaning into each other, handfast, gazing into a horizon where perhaps a brighter future awaited them. Together._


	13. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in terms of plot this does pretty much nothing but I had fun writing it - it's basically fluff and then some background. Enjoy!

 

Agron awoke with a sore head and a feeling as if he’d been bodily slammed into a wall. He reached out lazily for Nasir, knowing he would find comfort in those deceptively frail-looking arms. But there was no-one there. Agron woke up fully and remembered what had happened. He swore loudly and violently, and leapt up. A moment later, he sat down again. Hard. The Sleeping Beauty’s spell had not quite fully worn off, and he felt as weak as a newborn cub. He remembered the sensation of being put under that spell – it had a different effect on every person on whom it was cast. Agron heard the lullabies he and Duro had sung to each other as children, taking it in turns to sleep. Just thinking of those songs made his eyes heavy again, so he shook his head, then dunked it in the washbasin full of cold water. After that he rose once more to go in search of Nasir. However, his door was locked from the outside and Agron swore again. For what seemed like the next eternity, Agron paced the room, periodically banging on the door and shouting obscenities at whoever might happen to be passing by. He had just made up his mind to Shift and be damned to Lucius’ medieval oaken doors, when he heard the lock click and the door swing open.

Naevia stood in the doorway. Agron strode towards her, but was immediately blocked by Crixus who moved in front of Naevia quicker than a blink. From the wary but not hostile look in his eyes, Agron deduced that they were just concerned he was still in the same slightly psychotic mental state as before.

“No need for worry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I have regained senses. I just wish to know how Nasir does. Is…is he…”Agron gulped and fell quiet. Naevia stepped around Crixus, and gave Agron a smile.

“He is awake and asking for you. Come!” She squeezed Agron’s then turned and led the way out of the room. Crixus and Agron followed.

“How does your Naevia do?” Agron asked Crixus. Crixus paused a moment before answering.

“She…is not without wounds, but I have every hope that in time they will heal.” Agron clasped his shoulder for a moment, wordlessly conveying that he understood. He then shoved Crixus playfully.

“And do not think that I do not remember what happened yesterday, you fuck. I shall have my revenge upon you in the practice courts, fucking Gaul-leech!” Crixus snorted.

“I look forward to besting you again, furball.” Agron grinned, but then sobered.

“Truly though, brother – it does me good to see Naevia back in your arms where she belongs.”

“Without your help it would never have been so. I am forever in your debt, Agron.”

“Nonsense, we are brothers. And to lay eyes upon your heart again…I understand why a man would risk all for such a thing.” They did not realise they had reached the Healing Bay until they almost walked into Naevia, who was smiling at them.

“And as Crixus has his heart back, now you shall have yours.” She gestured through the doorway and Agron walked in.

 

Melitta was bending over Nasir’s bed, blocking Agron’s view. Then she turned and smiled at Agron, leaving the room as she did so. Agron rushed to Nasir’s side and gingerly took his hand. His colour was better, though he still looked rather wan and tired. He lifted his head slightly, and Agron, realising what Nasir wanted, put his free hand to support the back of Nasir’s head, then leaned in and kissed his lover gently.

“And how is my beautiful wild dog?”

“I am well – well enough to be up and out of this bed, as I have been trying to tell Melitta.” Agron chuckled fondly. Evidently Nasir’s spirit had not taken any blow, which was a blessing.

“You would do well to heed Melitta – if you do not, she will arrange it so that a Sleeping Beauty will enchant you, and I can tell you, those spells really fucking knock you out.” Nasir snorted, then tried to control his features as he saw Agron’s injured pout.

“Naevia was in here earlier,” he said apologetically. “She told me what happened last night.” Agron blushed and looked rather shamefaced. Nasir’s face took on a soft and loving expression, and he reached out to try and smooth out the wrinkles Agron’s frown made on his forehead. “I do not know whether to be flattered or terrified,” he said gently. Agron turned his head so he could kiss Nasir’s palm.

“The thought of losing you made all else seem as nothing,” he whispered, trying not to re-live those moments where he had thought that Nasir was going to leave him to go where Agron could not follow. “All I could see was your face, and enemies everywhere, and I…I just needed to make sure no-one could hurt you ever again.” He huffed ruefully. “I fear I was a little absent my senses out of worry for you.” Nasir smiled tenderly.

“I know. But I am not going anywhere without you, Agron.”

 

Crixus, Naevia and Melitta walked down the corridor together.

“So, he will be as he was before?” Crixus asked.

“Yes,” replied Melitta. “I have killed all infection in the wound and stopped all bleeding. But unless there is need, I prefer to leave the wound to heal naturally from hereon in. I find that makes a full recovery come quickly, and also eliminates the risk of error.”

“As if you could commit any error,” said Naevia fondly. Melitta smiled in return.

“I am glad you listened to some of my teaching in any case, Naevia. By sealing the wound so quickly, you stopped the blood loss before it became fatal. You saved his life. Even with your quick action, I almost had to call on one of the vampires to replenish his blood supply, but fortunately it did not come to that. Ah, I see Oenomaus awaits me. Excuse me.” She smiled at Crixus and kissed Naevia’s cheek, then went to join her husband. They were not as demonstrative a couple as many, but the depth of their love was clear to any who saw them together. Even when they were not physically touching, they had a certain synchronisation of body as well as mind.

Oenomaus was the oldest of the vampire Kings, having been Changed in the days of the Roman Empire before Christ. He had been a gladiator, and his role within the coven was to train warriors for the Council. In those days, the Council was a corrupt group of dictators who kept their power through violence and fear. They also participated in the slave trade, in both human and supernatural slaves. Oenomaus, having been a slave himself in his human life, despised the Council, but was powerless to go against their will, as the vampires were little more than slaves themselves.

Eventually, in recognition of his services, Oenomaus was gifted with a slave-wife, Melitta. Through their growing love for one another, he learnt of her past, and of the many who would rise against the Council if only they had a leader. By the time Crixus and Gannicus had become Oenomaus’ seconds, they were ready to strike down the Council. With the help of other supernaturals led by Agron, Sibyl and Naevia, the vampires overthrew the Council and replaced it with a new one, made up of the appointed King of each coven. Since then, they had made sure to quash all attempts at resurrecting the slave trade as soon as they were discovered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that really it should be Sparty leading the rebellion but it didn't really fit into the timeline in my head, plus I felt that Oenomaus needs more love for being the coolest damn thing ever. However, if you feel I'm sinking into the quagmire of too much background mythology, feel free to try and pull me out!


	14. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naevia is reunited with an old friend, and Gannicus and Sibyl have a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this - a combination of real life and writing block. I decided that the best way to cure myself was to bulldoze through, and I therefore also apologise for the somewhat low quality and shortness of this chapter.   
> The name "Aine" is pronounced "Onya" and means "Radiance" in Celtic.   
> Here a pegasus is a flying horse - not the Pegasus of myth, but descended from him. 
> 
> My brain. I don't even know.

Naevia was pulled from her reverie by Crixus’ arm around her waist and his voice in her ear.

“If you would care to come with me, m’lady, I have a gift awaiting you.” The two of them walked slowly along, hand in hand, stopping often to greet friends and acquaintances. Eventually they reached the stables, and Naevia suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“Crixus! Oh, Crixus, you didn’t, did you?” Naevia cried joyfully. Crixus smiled at her and opened the stable door.

“See for yourself, dear heart.” Naevia rushed into the stable. There, awaiting her, was a Pegasus with a gleaming bay coat. Her black mane and tail flowed like silk over her neck and hindquarters. Seeing Naevia, she whinnied and tossed her head, beating her coppery-bronze wings.

“Aine!” Naevia ran to her and threw her arms around the mare’s long, graceful neck, burying her face in Aine’s mane.  Aine nosed at Naevia’s back, snickering softly. Crixus guessed from their stillness and the faint grass-green glow coming from them that they were catching up. Before she had met Crixus, Naevia had saved Aine from hunters and healed her wounds, teaching her to fly again. Ever since, Aine had taken on the role of nanny-cum-bodyguard-cum, on occasion, cockblock extraordinaire.

Though he could not converse with her, Crixus knew Aine well enough to be able to tell that her whinnies and harrumphs were giving Naevia an impressive scold. Naevia laughed softly, kissed Aine’s nose, and turned to Crixus, her eyes glowing.

“How did you…”

“She…did not deal well with the news that you were missing,” said Crixus. “Would not let anyone except me near her, and even then she would barely let me try to touch or calm her. Not that I was in any condition to do so in any case.” Crixus paused for a moment, trying not to re-live those months of hell, not knowing where Naevia was or even  if she yet lived. He swallowed and continued. “I knew she could not come with us to search for you – would be uncontrollable – but I made sure to send word to bring her here as soon as I knew where you were.” Naevia walked over and kissed Crixus before snuggling into his arms.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Aine snorted in the background.

“I imagine she wants some time alone with you,” said Crixus, slightly ruefully, though he knew Naevia was as safe with Aine as she was anywhere. “I shall be right outside the door – call for me the moment you need to.” After nuzzling a kiss into her hair, he retreated to take up his post just outside the stable door.   

 ***

It was there that Gannicus and Sibyl found him a while later.

“Did I not tell you he would be here?” Sibyl said cheerfully to Gannicus. Gannicus huffed.

“Married a Seer…don’t know what I was thinking…” Sibyl smiled indulgently at him before turning her attention upon Crixus.

“We have a proposition for you and Naevia, Crixus,” she said in her calm, smooth voice. “We leave soon to return to our own realm, and we would like you and Naevia to come with us and stay for a while.” Crixus began to speak, but Gannicus interrupted.

“Agron and Nasir accompany us too – neither have been to the island before, and as Nasir heals it will be good for him. We think it will be good for Naevia too – you cannot stay here much longer, not with Lucius having to house all these freed slaves, and we thought perhaps she may not wish to return so soon to your own lands – not before she has healed somewhere far away from fears of the house of the Batiatus-shits and all the memories.” Crixus’ jaw clenched.

“If any dare lay hand on her again, I will rip it from fucking shoulder and use it as a club,” he growled. Sibyl laid her hand soothingly on his bicep.

“We do not question your ability to protect her,” she said. “Merely that she may heal faster if we take her far away from any who may wish you or her harm. “ She leant closer to Crixus and spoke quietly. “I heard her screams last night, Saw flashes of her dreams. Her spirit has been injured and her mind tarnished – she needs to get away from here if she is to fully heal and move on from this.”

Defeated by logic, Crixus gave in and accepted gratefully. Naevia slipped out of the stables and joined them, gravitating immediately to Crixus’ side.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi loves feedback, Oi do, Oi do.


	15. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group leave Lucius' mansion to go to to the home of Gannicus and Sibyl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Majoy apologies for the lateness and pitiful length of this chapter. I have actually written more but this seemed like a fairly natural break.

 

Thus, two sunrises later, morning found a group prepared for travel gathered in Lucius’ courtyard. Gannicus, Sibyl, Crixus, Naevia, Agron and Nasir were joined by Saxa and Mira as well as a small number of freed slaves. Crixus walked over to where Oenomaus and Melitta were standing.

“Are you certain you will not come with us for a time, brother?”

“Alas, I cannot. We must return to our own home and continue the hunt for Ashur. I will send word as soon as I know anything.”

“Gratitude.” Crixus clasped Oenomaus’ hand, kissed Melitta, and nodded at Barca and Pietros, who were to accompany Oenomaus and currently stood to one side, handfast. Crixus rejoined the rest of the group around Lucius, noting with pleasure that Nasir was standing without aid, and had a much better colour. Evidently Agron was not unstoppable merely on the battlefield. Crixus imagined that Nasir had been nursed to within an inch of his life. It seemed to be working however, as there was no way Agron would have let Nasir travel had he thought there was the least risk of a relapse.

The cavalcade trotted through the gates and out onto the sun-washed plains. They rode mostly in silence to begin with. As they reached the border of Lucius’ realm, Naevia reined in Aine and stopped to look back for a moment. Crixus stopped with her and watched her face. The jagged scar which ran down her cheek had faded a little, and her skin had regained some of the colour and vitality that had been starved and beaten from her in the mines of Batiatus. She closed her eyes as the wind lazily ruffled her choppy hair, lifting tendrils and wafting them over her face in a touch far gentler than any Naevia had experienced as a captive. In that moment, time seemed to stop, and Crixus saw Naevia as she used to be, the lines of pain and sorrow smoothed away, revelling in the simple joy of being alive and outside under the open sky.

The moment passed all too quickly, and they turned their backs on the domains of Lucius and Batiatus, and moved forward. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome, particularly as I've never done a fic like this before so any advice would be gratefully received!


End file.
